


No Shorts, No Losses: Your Riptide and You

by lady_krysis (saekhwa)



Category: The Losers (2010), X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Canon Character of Color, Character of Color, Comment Fic, Crack, Crossover, Gen, POV Character of Color, Ridiculous, Wordcount: 100-1.000
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-11
Updated: 2011-07-11
Packaged: 2017-10-21 06:59:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 566
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/222221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saekhwa/pseuds/lady_krysis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A crack!fic in which everyone wants to see Riptide and his cute white shorts get very, very wet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	No Shorts, No Losses: Your Riptide and You

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kisahawklin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kisahawklin/gifts), [mumblemutter](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mumblemutter/gifts).



> So apparently this fandom and me equals CRACK and outrageous scenarios. Everything in this fic was inspired by [](http://mumblemutter.dreamwidth.org/profile)[**mumblemutter**](http://mumblemutter.dreamwidth.org/) 's beautiful titles in [this thread](http://kate.dreamwidth.org/476022.html?thread=5233526&style=mine#cmt5233526) in [](http://kate.dreamwidth.org/profile)[**kate**](http://kate.dreamwidth.org/) 's journal. Needless to say, I probably shouldn't be encouraged.

i.

"Let's make a bet, sugar."

Janos understands what such a phrase really means, and he curls his fingers, the wind generating in his palm forming into a small cyclone. He is not slow or taken by cheap tricks (and he is not so foolish as to honestly believe that there is anything cheap about transforming into diamonds), but Frost shifts and spins.

She strikes his chest — palm flat, fortunately — and he stumbles. As he goes over the railing, he lets the cyclone go and falls into the ocean. It is convenient but an annoyance as he climbs back onto the boat, his white clothes soaked through.

Emma, hand resting on her cocked hip, rakes a look down his body.

"What _bet_ were we making?" he asks as he attempts to strip out of his shirt, his left arm caught in the sleeve.

She flashes a coy smile. "It doesn't matter. Looks like I win."

ii.

Azazel, often so precise, drops them into the middle of the river during practice.

Janos, when he pulls himself out, quickly realizes that he is the only one soaked through, his white shorts and shirt sticking to his legs.

Azazel softly tsks, sweeping his eyes down Janos and masking it with a bow. "Forgive me, friend. A ... miscalculation."

Janos releases a tornado, but Azazel teleports out of the way with a smile.

iii.

Janos will never wear white again as long as he remains with the Hellfire Club.

Shaw claps Janos' shoulder and smiles. "Don't worry, Riptide," he says under the safety of an umbrella. "Just do your"—He spins his fingers—"whoosh and make it all go away."

"I can't control the clouds," Janos says.

In answer to which Shaw claps his shoulder again and laughs.

"Nice walk?" Frost asks when they finally reach the estate.

"Very, my love."

"You are a bit wet, friend," Azazel says, and Janos snatches the towel out of his hand and stalks inside.

iv.

"What?" Jensen asks, eyes wide behind his glasses as he stares at Carlos.

He does _not_ , however, move the hose _away_ from Janos until Carlos snatches it out of his hand.

"Hey!" Jensen flashes Janos a sheepish smile that is anything but apologetic. "Sorry about that."

Aisha gestures at Jensen, and Janos narrows his eyes at them both when she says, "Pay up."

"Fine," Jensen grumbles, and fishes several bills out of his pocket, counting them out into Aisha's palm.

"Jensen," is all Carlos says, but it is Janos who is soaked through _again_ , and he shoves a hand through his hair as he watches the interaction.

"A bet's a bet," Jensen says, and frowns. "Uh. Hey, Pooch. Can I borrow a twenty?"

"What? So you can lose it to Aisha? I don't think so. Stop making bets with her and put that money into a savings account. Someone get the buns. These burgers are ready."

"Your team," Janos tells Carlos in Spanish, "is crazy."

Carlos nods and winds the hose.

Aisha's smile cuts sharply across her face as if she understood. "Tighty whities, huh?" she asks, and nods toward his very wet shorts.

Jensen shakes his head, muttering, "You totally looked like a boxer briefs guy." Then he waves, and Janos slips inside to get himself a towel, an item which is quickly becoming a staple of his wardrobe. "Hey, Clay! You got a twenty I can borrow?"


End file.
